Warm Mornings and Bitter Drinks
by KaeBug
Summary: "Anyone could tell the sun had favoured him, it was in the way it danced in his hair and lent it's light to his smiles. He sees all of it in him- even as he sleeps." A sleepy PruSpa one shot. Rated T for some things. Sappy drabble at an attempt of Fluff, Gilbert just wants his coffee, but Antonio wants other things. (Please be Gentle with me Senpai, it's my first time) Human AU.


I discovered there was a lack of love for this pairing. Here's my attempt at rectifying that. A boredom drabble, PruSpa stuff, first time writing again after the _longest _hiatus ( but not as long as Fall Out Boy *shots fired*)

Warning: Total drabble. A curse word or two and Nobody says 'please' or 'thank you'. Read at your own risk.

Anyway, here's presenting:

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><p>For Gilbert Beilschmidt, mornings were usually greeted with stiff joints, grogginess and dark bitter drinks to lift the heaviness of sleep in the basement of his brother's house. That was the way he prefered it, that was what he was used to. Not to waking up when a stray ray of light had found his eyes, having wormed it's way through the Spaniard's lavishly useless curtains. He grunted, stirring and shifting to get out of the sun's line of sight. He attempted to but the limb curled around his waist tightened. Consciousness slowly taking form as did the rest of the man's senses, the satin sheets that clung and stuck to his skin, the heat and weight of the body draped over his own and the nose that tried to bury itself deeper in the crook of his neck.<p>

He couldn't open his eyes, but yet he could still feel the man's hair tickling at his cheek. His breath, slow and light, brushing the skin of the Albino's collar with every rise and fall of their chests. He didn't need to open his eyes to know he was still asleep. They'd been together long enough to memorize almost every habit, every tic, every mannerism of the other, they could probably predict what the other would do or say next. So he didn't want to open his eyes, he didn't want to look at the man on his chest, fast asleep and content, because he knew- like every other morning after they spent the night together, if so much as looked at him- so much as spared him a glance his chest would twist and he would be paralyzed where he was. Unable to tear himself away from arms that were just too comfortable and from a sight too endearing.

He might've been German, but he wasn't so heartless...

But he did need his coffee.

So he started out slow, treating it like a conquest for land, or the retreat of an invasion, limb by limb, pulling away from the man. He started with his leg, trying to detangle it from the other man's own (how he managed to wrap almost every limb around him during the night) managing to work his left leg free- success! Next was his left arm, Trapped underneath the other and the mattress- this was gonna require a lot more patience than the reconquering of his leg did. Keeping his eyes screwed shut he tried to scoot away, inching his hand free- the deaden nerves starting to tingle as the blood flow started to return... slowly does it...

Antonio stirred, Gilbert freezing as he felt the man shift closer in his arms, somehow sensing the loss of his human pillow even in his sleep. Gilbert groaned, the man was like a space heater, but he made no attempt to move, keeping still as he waited for the other's breathing to turn even again. Waiting... Honestly he shouldn't have been surprised.

Plan B: He shifted onto his side, eyes still closed as he felt the man's weight shift from him and into the mattress, arms around him, holding him as he rolled him onto his back and off his chest. About to breathe a sigh of relief until he heard a small noise of dismay and what he thought was a growl. Antonio's arm tightening around him. Gilbert just sighed. Why was he surprised. The man was half octopus in his sleep, so clingy- like an extra adhesive band-aid.

So he was there, cradling him in arms as the other was pleasantly asleep probably dreaming about being an octopus or hugging some giant tomatoes, because lord knows how many times Gilbert heard the man mutter the word in his sleep...

But he was being strangely quiet right now... Gilbert opened his eyes, but found himself blinded by the sun, moving to sit up so he could better avoid it and see. Antonio's arms falling around his waist- somehow that didn't get him stirring. Gilbert grumbled as he rubbed his eyes, blinking as he finally looked down at him. It was worse than he imagined.

Antonio was warmth, everything about him, every trait, every quality- all of it was everything Gilbert had wanted- and how it had taken him years to see, how it had taken him several failed relationships and messy break ups for the both of them to realize- it was warmth he needed and looking down at the man next to him,he could see it.

The sun browned colour of his skin, the green of his eyes when the light hits it just the perfect angle, his calloused hands, the way his accent played and rolled with his words- Anyone could tell the sun had favoured him, it was in the way it danced in his hair and lent it's light to his smiles. He sees all of it in him- even as he sleeps. How warm he is, and like he predicted- just as he predicted- his chest twists in that beautiful way that it does that feels as if it was breaking and falling in love simultaneously.

But it doesn't last. Gilbert doesn't let it, even as it pains him, he pulls free of his arms, before the unconscious octopus has a chance to constrict or grabs him again as he moves to sit at the edge of the bed. His feet were already firmly on the ground when he hears a whine. He knew it... The bastard was awake the whole time. He turns to look at him, all mussed up curls and sleepy smiles that he was. Gilbert didn't like it, he looked too... enticing, too inviting, like the open fire to the cold, or a flame to the moth. If he gave in, he'd surely regret it... Or so that' what he believed.

"Morning," the spaniard rasped, smiling up at him

"Are you going somewhere?" Gilbert hummed at the question,watching as Antonio stretched under his gaze.

"Coffee" he replied, softly, running a pale hand up the man's side, Antonio jerking ticklishly under the touch, squirming as he let out a yelp. Gilbert chuckling at the noise. After the hand was gone, and Gilbert himself had almost stood up Antonio let out another noise.

"Don't you want to stay in bed with me a bit more? It's still really early?" He said, as if that was any real argument for Gilbert to stay in, He never slept in, it didn't sit right with him wasting his mornings like that. But as he looked down at the man, he found himself _really_ reconsidering. He groaned again, turning around properly only to regret it as big eyes and pouting lips pleaded with him, and he would've almost laughed at the fact a grown man- an _older_ grown ass man- was trying to pout his way with him. He would've, but it was w_orking._

So he sighed, Bending down, holding his breathe as he pressed a kiss to the man's pouty lips, hoping it would placate him, and retreating before either could really deepen it- He _really_ wouldn't be able to resist then.

"I'll be back, I just need my coffee." He whispered to the other, though Antonio's eyes seemed more focus on the man's lips than his actual words, evidenced as he tried to chase them with his own when Gilbert pushed himself off the bed and away from the man. The spaniard was displeased.

So he rolled to his side, propping himself onto his elbows as he watched the German saunter through the room, his lips curling into a smile as he watched him sort through the remnants of last night's clothing for some underwear. Indulging in the wonderfully nude sight before him that was his- and only his- to enjoy. He hummed in appreciation, eyeing the the muscled, white clad of sexiness, so he called to him, his voice rich with accent. Laying it on real thick.

"Don't take too long, I might be needing you in a minute." And Gilbert could see him, looking back as he was about to leave, the sheet falling from his waist to drape over his hip. The fabric only just covering him yet the image was enough to lead Gilbert's mind to all sorts of ideas. Tantalizing ideas. But Gilbert could see through it, He was all half lidded eyes with a half turned smile- the utter image of debauchery- and yet Gilbert was Shaking his head at him as he made his way into the man's kitchen, smirking as he thought of him. The man was such a tease, Sure he would be waiting for him, but if he ever got back into that bed, it was so he could be used as a human pillow for the human octopus. Never mind the suggestive pose and all other provocative hints. It was just how the flame liked to entice the moth, by looking all inviting and sexy. Tease.

Yet he didn't mind. As he waited for his coffee to brew, sipping at the thin black drink, the first taste of sharp bitterness enough to wake him, he was still debating. Making his way back into the bedroom with a steaming mug of coffee in his hands, taking another sip before falling back into bed. Comforting arms all to eager to welcome him back; Gilbert all to eager to indulge in them, in their warmth. The bitter taste of coffee on his tongue as he relaxed and a warm pair of lips were on his again. He didn't mind.

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><p>One shots: oddly gratifying to write yet so unsatisfying to read, especially the bittersweet variety.<p>

Anyways, this has Been The woman on the Moon,

**_PEACE_**


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